


Palm to Palm

by LaClarity (violethunter)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Bodyswap, Love Confessions, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Other, ego death, transdimensional foreplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 01:53:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19713913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violethunter/pseuds/LaClarity
Summary: "So you're the demon!'' Aziraphale went on. "Possess me!"





	Palm to Palm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cottia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cottia/gifts).



> Inspired by and written for Cottia on a plane home from the Holy Land when I obviously hadn't really gotten over it yet. We decided there needed to be more non-sexual Angel intimacy porn in the world. Enjoy.

Aziraphale held out his hand, palm side up. Crowley looked at that dear, manicured hand as though it could bite him.

"You're sure about this? You're sure this is what Agnes Nutter meant?"

"Well, no. Not exactly. But what else are we to do, Crowley?"

Crowley lifted one shoulder in a shrug.

"So you're the demon!'' Aziraphale went on. "Possess me!"

Crowley winced. In six thousand years of tempting, he had never once possessed so much as a fly. It's not like he was a very good demon, after all. The thought of wearing someone else's skin made him itch all over. But, wearing Aziraphale's skin? That thought made him feel hot and sick and like there was static raising all his hair on end. It wasn't a bad feeling, as such. But it wasn't exactly a good feeling either.

He looked at Aziraphale, who looked back him with innocent blue eyes, palm still outstretched. Gingerly, Crowley reached out his hand, and placed it in Aziraphale’s.

"And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss." Crowley quipped.

"I thought you hated the tragedies?" said Aziraphale, blushing prettily.

"Mmm.”

Crowley gathered his awareness of himself. Not of his body, but of himself, in all it's transdimensional scaly winged glory. Unlike other demons he was rather fond of his human body; he loved it even. He loved wearing clothes and fixing his hair and he loved his little tattoo and his snake eyes. He even loved hiding those eyes behind glasses all the time. It was... fun. To hide and not hide, in plain sight.

But as much as he loved his body, it had always been a bit of strain fitting himself into it. Wings and fangs and scales and all. So, how on earth would he fit into Aziraphale's form? The angel was all light and fluff and not the right shape at all for the crackling fizzing he felt as the definable thing that was him. He would have to try and reach out for the bit of the bastard within Aziraphale, that only Crowley knew was there, and hope that it could take him, scales and all.

He gathered his awareness in his hand, against the feel of the warm flesh just beneath his own. Aziraphale curled his fingers around his hand, in encouragement, so that to an outside observer they would appear as two sappy idiots, holding hands in the most awkward of ways. Crowley didn't dare look up at his friend's face. No doubt the angel would be giving him some benevolent and annoying smile.

'Here goes nothing.' Crowley thought and pushed.

It was like dipping his hand into a cool pond on a hot summer's day. He felt a sigh escape his lips as thousands of years tension lifted. Had he been too hot? All his Fallen life? Without knowing?

For a moment, the edges of their true selves moved against each other. Then something in the cool pool of Aziraphale shifted like a current changing in a river, and Crowley felt rather than saw his smile.

"Oh, there you are." Aziraphale said tenderly.

Tendrils of calm waters trickled up Crowley's arm and he felt his heart turning to Aziraphale as a sunflower towards the light. He was opening up, blooming, seeds were ripening and as Crowley looked at Aziraphale's eyes, his lips, somewhere a voice said 'kiss him, kiss him' and oh Dark Lord Below, it was too much too much this love, this sweet cool relief, this tide was going to drown him, he would suffocate, oh kiss him, oh kiss him, oh kiss him.

Crowley snatched his hand back with a yelp, whipping away all the parts of himself that he had allowed to pour into Aziraphale. Aziraphale let out an involuntary groan, like a thirsty man who had just had a glass of water dashed from his lips. He made a grabby snatching motion towards Crowley, but stopped as soon as he noticed the demon panting. His face instantly clouded over.

"What happened? Did I hurt you?"

"Too fast." Crowley grunted. "Too much."

A grim chuckle fell from Aziraphale's lips. It didn’t sound much like a laugh.

"I'm too fast?"

"Shuddup."

Crowley's legs gave out and he crumpled onto the sofa. He cradled his hand as though he had been burnt. An uncomfortable silence followed. Crowley bit his lip in the effort not to quote more Shakespeare. Something something, it is the East and Aziraphale is the sun. Shut up, Crowley, shut up. The silence dragged on, Aziraphale standing over him, an uncharacteristically unreadable expression on his face.

"You wanted to kiss me." Aziraphale said, finally. It wasn't a question.

"No, I didn't." Crowley lied, miserably.

Aziraphale pursed his lips and sat down primly.

"You can kiss me if you want." he said, after a long pause.

"Well, I don't want to."

Crowley heard Aziraphale huff out a small sigh of irritation.

"I just thought it might help." he said, angrily. “Because we've got to do this somehow and we can't while you're obsessing over... and I don't think you did it quite right, actually. At least, that mixing up thing didn't happen with Madame Tracy."

"Angel and a demon." Crowley said sadly. "Probably explode."

"No, now look." Aziraphale put a comforting hand on Crowley's knee and Crowley stared at it stupidly. "Agnes Nutter told us to do this, so we can do it. It's…”

" ... inevitable?"

"Right!"

"What did it feel like?" Crowley asked, carefully.

"Oh... well you know when it's a slightly chilly spring day and it's overcast, but then the sun comes out from behind a cloud and it's, oh, so deliciously warm? Like that. Kind of."

"Mmm. Sounds nice."

Aziraphale gave him a playful bump with his shoulder.

"You are nice."

"At this point... having stopped The Apocalypse and all that. There's probably no point denying it anymore. Is there?"

"No." Aziraphale squeezed his knee. "Do you want to try again? Come inside me. You won't hurt me."

Crowley managed to keep his face straight for an entire beat, before he threw back his head and roared with laughter.

"Come inside me, angel?"

"Honestly! You have the emotional maturity of a thirteen year old."

"Oh, don't get your feathers in a twist."

"Well, excuse me for trying to be serious about saving our lives. Just try again, please. And none of this sticky mixy-up business. Just possess me."

"Why do I always have to do everything?" Crowley said, aware he was whining.

"You're the demon! This is your department."

"Yes, but you're the one who's actually done it before!"

There was a moment of silence before Crowley realised what he had said.

"You mean, you've never?"

"No, I haven’t, alright? What do I want with going around sticking myself into other people for? Bleugh!" Crowley held up a finger as it was Aziraphale's turn to raise his eyebrows at the innuendo. "Don't." he warned. "Seriously, just don't."

"Look, just try again." Aziraphale said. “l'm perfectly willing and that's the main thing. I'm sure you will find it comes naturally to you if you just try."

"Ugh."

"Here, maybe this will help. Get it out of your system."

Aziphale leaned in and before Crowley's brain could catch up with what on Earth Aziraphale was doing, he had captured Crowley's lips with his own. For a shocked second Crowley was frozen absolutely rigid. Millennia of 'no we shouldn't Crowley' and 'you go too fast for me Crowley', but now this, the angel's lips on his own, the slightest weight at the back of his head as Aziraphale drew them together.

Then something human took over him, and he was leaning into Aziraphale, lips parting, eyes fluttering closed. Did the angel really taste like vanilla? Was that even possible? And why was Aziraphale's mouth so cool, he thought, as he licked his way inside. He always thought kissing the angel would be warm and oh, _had he thought about it._

Ah. That's why.

It was happening again.

'Steady, steady!’ he told himself, as their lips disappeared into the melding. 'keep it together, just push.' It was like diving headfirst into a deliciously cool swimming pool. Crowley found himself drinking and drinking, aware somewhere in the back of his rapidly disintegrating consciousness that Aziraphale was smiling, and holding the glass to his lips murmuring encouragement and calling him 'my love’' and 'mon amour’ and 'habibi'.

The waters of Aziraphale parted before him like he was the staff of Moses. If he still had a body he would have been dazzled despite his glasses. Blinding light was sparkling and glinting as off the waves at sunset. Crowley's eyes hurt. No, that wasn't right. His... something hurt. This was Grace, wasn't it? This light, this love, Aziraphale, he... he…

Crowley came popping back up to the surface like he had been trying and failing to submerge himself in the Dead Sea, spitting with the oily bitterness of the water, nose burning.

"Oh, dear." Aziraphale said, his voice weak. "Well, I think you were closer this time."

"You!" Crowley said, his voice full of anger and accusation.

"W-what?"

"You love me!"

"Well I mean, of course I love you-"

"Don't you even dare! Don't you dare even pretend l'm supposed to know! You I know I can't sense..."

Crowley tore his glasses off. He couldn't see properly for some reason. He rubbed his stinging eyes with the back his hands. 'Demons can't cry' he told his tear ducts severely. He wanted to be sick. This damn burning taste in his mouth.

"I'm so sorry." Aziraphale was saying in a small voice. "I always knew you..." he took a breath, steadying himself. "I always knew that you loved me. But I was afraid. So afraid. You are a demon after all, darling. What the heavenly host might do to me for loving you doesn't bear thinking about. I know that doesn’t excuse anything, but. I mean. I’m sorry.”

Crowley looked up, the spots in front of his eyes starting to fade.

"Call me that again."

Aziraphale looked confused, before understanding broke like a delighted dawn across his face.

"Darling." he said leaning towards Crowley, pulling him into an embrace, running his fingers through his hair. "My love, my only.'' Crowley laid his head against AziraphaIe's chest, nuzzling into his waistcoat.

"And you kissed me." Crowley pointed out to Aziraphale’s buttons.

"I suppose I did. Was it-was it alright?"

"I don't really know" Crowley admitted. "I got us all mixed up again."

"Yes," Aziraphale breathed "That was lovely. You're so warm dear. I didn't realise how cold I had gotten before you warmed me up."

"Mnm." Crowley said again, wanting to say something about how refreshing Aziraphale’s spirit was, but licked his lips and got stuck on choking on the salt of Aziraphale’s overpowering love instead. Aziraphale pulled away, only to press their foreheads together when Crowley looked up.

"What happened?"

"It's just, that. The Last time I felt that, it was Her. And, Lord. How it hurt when it was ripped away. I can't go through that again-I just can't."

"I won't leave you, Crowley."

"But you might! You might… die." 

Crowley let himself be pulled into another hug.

''I'm so sorry, Crowley. For everything I said. For not running away with you. For letting myself get discorporated. For, for." Aziraphale swallowed. "For telling you it was over. In fact, I rather think," he withdrew again, so they could look into each other's eyes. "It might actually only just be beginning."

"I think I'd like that." Crowley said, his tongue thick in his mouth.

Aziraphate kissed him, kissed his forehead, kissed his closed eyes, kissed his mouth. Crowley could feel the Glory battering away behind Aziraphale's mortal frame, and tried his hardest not to skitter away from it. The salt taste in his mouth was cleansed away by the sweetest of waters as Aziraphale kissed him chastely, reverently. Through the cool calm that was Aziraphale he could feel a warm glow in his heart, as though he was drinking wine, communion wine, washed clean by the blood of the Lamb. He giggled against Aziraphale's lips as the words of the song sprung unbidden to his mind 'but who is the Lamb and who is the knife?'

"What is it?" Aziraphale asked, tenderly.

"Nothing, you wouldn't get it. Or, err maybe you would. Hang on.'' Crowley imagined the music and pushed it on a breath towards Aziraphale.

"Oh." said the angel. "Well, that's quite lovely, if a bit sacrilegious."

"So we're what. Telepathic now?"

"Apparently.”

"I imagine that’s going to get annoying pretty fast. I don't need you in my brain, cluttering it all up with books."

"Clutter! I do not own clutter!" 

He looked so outraged that Crowley couldn't help but lean in himself this time, and loved the echo of Aziraphale’s delight when he surprised him with the kiss.

"Pure as the driven snow." Crowley whispered as he finally pulled back.

Aziraphale flushed to the very roots of his blonde hair.

"Yes, well. Lovely absolution metaphor, really. But we still have the issue of how to swap our bodies." 

Crowley withdrew and leaned back against the sofa, reaching out a lazy hand to drag through Aziraphale's curls.

"I think you have to do it. It's too... big for me."

"Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you. If you are afraid I rather think you should be in control."

"No." Crowley said firmly. "I can't. It's like fighting not to drown. Can't make myself."

Aziraphale’s face fell as Crowley described becoming one with him as like drowning and Crowley reached out and grabbed his hands, giving them a reassuring squeeze.

"I trust you, angel”

"Maybe..." Aziraphale said, cautiously, "if it all got too much you could sort of think of something distinctive, and then I would know that I should stop." 

"What, like a safeword?" 

"I don't know what you mean!" Aziraphate spluttered, unconvincingly.

“Would you like to tie me down as well?"

"Really, incorrigible demon! As if we were base human beings!"

" ... because I wouldn't be against it." Crowley continued, in his best deep Tempter's voice.

That brought Aziraphale up short, mouth hanging open.

"Ducks."

"What?" Aziraphate said, faintly.

"Ducks. If it's too much, I'll think of ducks. Random enough to be obvious. Connected enough to our clandestine little meetings to be remembered in a crisis. Ducks."

"Oh dear. Ducks. Oh, I do hope Agnes knows what she's doing."

“Who cares." Crowley said. "You do."


End file.
